


tell me i'll hold onto you

by morino



Series: [ verse ] - bend don't break (bits and pieces) [2]
Category: springwave
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-01
Updated: 2018-01-01
Packaged: 2019-02-26 08:44:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,309
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13232184
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/morino/pseuds/morino
Summary: So won't you hold onto me; hold onto me, like it's over.[ bend don't break (year 103);hyuntak;hiwan/hyuntak, hyuntak & jongjoon, sungki & hyuntak ]





	tell me i'll hold onto you

It's sore, your heart. That rotten, shriveled thing.  
  
Curled up in blankets, covered from head to toe, you feel cold but that is not why your body shakes.  
  
Jongjoon is seated on his own bed, slender legs stretched out for miles. His head hangs low, eyes trained on the phone in his hands with his earphones in, pretending you're not in the bedroom with him.  
  
He must have returned to the dorm in the time it took you to leave the room and come back. You piece two and two together a few seconds after storming in with puffy eyes, expecting a lonely and mind-melting silence, only to be greeted by a startled and mildly annoyed pair of eyes staring back at you. It's only when Jongjoon's annoyance at being disturbed makes way for a whirlpool of concern that you remember how to move. With a weak push the door is closed, and clamber into your bed.  
  
You don't hear Jongjoon leave. Not after five minutes, not after ten. You've lost what little grasp of time you had left around fifteen and allow the memory of not too long ago to rattle your bones and leave your throat dry in the presence of company you can't see.  
  
You think of Ryung and offers for chicken and a graveyard of misunderstandings that were buried too hastily. You think _this isn't fair to Hiwan_ and _it's my fault_ and _it's not as easy as eating leftovers, is it?_ You think of a gentle laugh ringing clearly in your ears that it is drowned out and replaced by the click of a door being shut.  
  
You pant and wheeze and purse your lips to stifle the sounds but they still part to make way for your every sob. You remember there isn't going to be anyone stepping into your room to sit at the edge of your bed and listen. Now there's a new layer of wetness to your eyes and you're gasping as it spreads to your cheeks and it _won't stop_.  
  
_I'm sorry._ You should have hugged him. _I'm sorry._ You should have held onto him. _I'm sorry_ , he said. _I'm sorry._  
  
_I'm sorry, I'm sorry. I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry. I'm sorry,_  
  
_I'm sorry,_  
  
              you're sorry.  
  
You're sorry. _You're sorry, you're sorry, you're sorry, you're sorry,_  
  
                                             _you're sorry, you're sorry, you're sorry, you're sorry,_  
  
               _I'm_ —

 

-

 

(Jongjoon's touch is sudden, his hand firm and grounding. The mattress dips under his weight and his hand stays on your shoulder until the quivering stops, until you're quiet. Your cheeks feel wet, your pillow is damp. Your head hurts. You want to sleep, forever maybe.  
  
"Hyuntak?"  
  
You draw your knees up, curl until his hand is forced to slide down your arm. You feel smaller, but not small enough. Jongjoon doesn't move away or closer in. You squeeze your eyes shut and breathe. His grip tightens, solid and comforting.  
  
_I'm sorry._  
  
Nothing changes.)

 

-

 

There is a tray of food on your beside when you wake up. Dinner. It must be late. You sit up, ignore the modest spread of rice in the translucent container and the helping of something you can't see in the solid holder next to it, and throw your legs over the side of the bed. You wonder if you'll even be able to make it to the bathroom.  
  
You have to. You feel like shit, you're full of shit, there's no reason to look like shit, too.  
  
So you push yourself up, ignore the way the room seems to swim around you. Your head still hurts. It's then you notice the medicine and water huddled together in one corner of the tray. A phone sits out-of-place on the tray with them. Jongjoon's.  
  
The dull ache above your eyelids reverberates whenever you move your head but you look around anyway. You can't decide if it's relief or loss that engulfs you when you realize you're alone. Just like you wanted.  
  
When you turn back to the tray, you notice Jongjoon's earphones are tucked in a loose coil next to the phone, threatening to spill over the side of the tray.  
  
You breathe through your nose, no longer as stuffy as it was before you drifted off, and don't spare the assortment of items beside your bed a second glance before hunting for your towel and a fresh change of clothes.

 

-

 

You're still dripping onto the towel slung around your neck when you down half a glass of water and take something for the throbbing headache.  
  
When your hair is dry enough, you finish what's left of the water on the tray, pocket Jongjoon's phone after grabbing your own, and head outside.

 

-

 

You don't know where you're going, but the streets are empty and you are away from the dorm, and for now that good enough.  
  
When you're three blocks away from all your problems, you stop walking. The hand you shove into the depths of the pocket of your sweatshirt pulls out the warm slab your fingers have been brushing against since you left.  
  
The phone unlocks without asking anything of you and a playlist, simply titled 'TK', fills the screen.  
  
You resist the urge to roll your eyes, worried your head might not take kindly to it, and dig around for Jongjoon's earphones as you begin to walk again.  

It's a tiny collection of atmospheric moody bullshit. All wordless, if the first song is anything to go by, save for a few oh's and ah's. It makes your mind feel numb. For the first minute, it feels nice. Glorious even. By the second it starts to crawl under your skin.

It's considerate. Like he thinks maybe you have something else that could go wrong in your life that didn't involve a boy. Like he doesn't want to assume you fucked up. It could be you, it could be time, it could be white noise in your head—it could be anything.

You stop the second track forty seconds in and delete the playlist.

 

-

 

You scroll through playlist after playlist, waiting for that perfect hit, but it never comes. Eventually Jongjoon's phone and tangled cords find their way back into your pocket.

Two blocks down, you find a hole-in-the-wall bar to replace it.

 

-

 

 **[ draft ]  
** im sorry

 **[ draft ]  
** where ar u  
want

 **[ draft ]  
** i miss you

 **[ draft ]  
** il

 

-

 

You stares at the wall, back to the world. This corner of the bar is cold. Your drink is cold. The glass your fingers wrap around is also cold, wet, but it is the ever present threat of a fresh sheet of tears that makes you shiver the most.

You knock each wave back with a sip and a swallow. You're not supposed to feel this way—you know better, you did this. You wanted this.

This is better. This is for the best, isn't it?

 

-

 

 **[ sungki ]  
** _are you safeeee_

 **[ sent ]  
** mmmm im loney and inside and everthgin

 **[ sungki ]  
** _would you like some company?_

 

-

 

(He was always warm, like a steaming cloud at the tips of your fingers.  
  
You wonder what you were to him. Sudden showers on a sunny day, perhaps: hot one minute and cool the next; something to run away from on a bad day and spin around in when there was a nearby hand to hold.

Even now, your heart squeezes sorely when you think of him but he heats your whole chest and adds a little color to your cheeks.

You want to see him again, to hold him again—just once and you'll never let go.

 You miss him. You want to go home.)  

 

-

 

 **[ sent ]  
** a litl e bit~

 

-

 

_It's over,_

               _it's over, it's over, it's over._

                             (Hold me.)

Could you say—

_tell me,_

right now

  
               ( _hold onto me, hold onto me_ )

it's over, it's over,

—that you'll hold me closer?

                             Like it's over.

 


End file.
